>A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
>Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
>MOTHER OF EXILES.
>"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
>With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
>Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
>The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
>Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
>I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
really makes one think doesn't it lad